the immortal of maluha

Placing his hand on Shiva’s head, the Pandit said gently, ‘Jai Guru Vishwamitra. Jai Guru
Vashishta.’
Shiva rose, turned and walked down the steps. Looking at Shiva walking away from him,
clearly out of earshot, the Pandit whispered with an admiring smile, for he had recognised his
fellow traveller in karma. ‘The pleasure was all mine, my karmasaathi’
Shiva reached the shoe stall, out on his shoes and offered a coin for the service. The shoekeeper
politely declined. ‘Thank you Sir, but this is a service provided by the government of
Meluha. There is no charge for it.’
Shiva smiled. ‘Of course! You people have a system for everything. Thank you.’
The shoe-keeper smiled back. ‘We are only doing our duty, Sir.’
Shiva walked back to the temple steps. As he sat down, he breathed in deeply and let the
tranquil atmosphere suffuse him with its serenity. And then it happened. The moment that every
unrealised heart craves for. The unforgettable instant that a soul, clinging on to the purest
memory of its previous life, longs for. The second, that in spite of a conspiracy of the gods,
only a few lucky men experience. The moment when she enters his life.
She rode in on a chariot, guiding the horses expertly into the courtyard, while a lady
companion by her side held on to the railings. Although her black hair was tied in an
understated bun, a few irreverent strands danced a spellbinding kathak in the wind. Her
piercingly magnetic, blue eyes and bronzed skin were an invitation for jealousy from the
goddesses. Her body, though covered demurely in a long angvastram, still ignited Shiva’s
imagination enough to sense the lovely curves which lay beneath. Her flawless face was a
picture of concentration as she manoeuvred the chariot skilfully into its parking place. She
dismounted the chariot with an air of confidence. It was a calm confidence which had not
covered the ugly distance towards arrogance. Her walk was dignified. Stately enough to let a
beholder know that she was detached, but not cold. Shiva stared at her like a parched piece of
earth mesmerised by a passing rain cloud.
Have mercy on me!
‘My lady, I still feel it’s not wise to wander so far from the rest of your entourage,’ said her
companion.
She answered. ‘Krittika, just because others don’t know the law, doesn’t mean that we can
ignore it. Lord Ram clearly stated that once a year, a pious woman has to visit Lord Brahma. I
will not break that law, no matter how inconvenient it is to the bodyguards!’
The lady noticed Shiva staring at her as she passed by him. Her delicate eyebrows arched
into a surprised and annoyed frown. Shiva made a valiant attempt to tear his glance away, but
realised that his eyes were no longer in his control. She continued walking up, followed by
Krittika.
She turned around at the top of the temple steps, to see the caste unmarked immigrant at a
distance, still staring at her unabashedly. Before turning to walk into the main temple, she
muttered to Krittika, ‘These uncouth immigrants! As if we’ll find our saviour amongst these
barbarians!’
It was only when she was out of sight that Shiva could breathe again. As he desperately